


Decadence

by blainedarling



Category: Actor RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Royalty, F/M, M/M, Master/Servant, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-20
Updated: 2014-12-20
Packaged: 2018-03-02 10:53:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,590
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2809697
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blainedarling/pseuds/blainedarling
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Crown Prince takes a liking to the new servant in the palace. Inspired by <a href="http://www.thefashionisto.com/wp-content/uploads/2015/01/Sebastian-Stan-GQ-Romania-December-2014-Shoot-001-800x1068.jpg">this photo</a>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Decadence

The palace is even more grand and impossibly vast than you could have expected, or have been prepared for. You can feel yourself getting more and more anxious as you get further lost in the maze of corridors, your feet padding lightly over the carpeted floors. You push the hair back from your face, momentarily losing track of where you are going, and careering straight into an older woman, who huffs at you in disdain.

“You!” She says as she catches sight of your face, thrusting the bowl of fruit she has in her arms at your chest. “You are the new one, yes?”  
You nod quickly. The royal family had taken you in just yesterday, and today is your first day. You hope you have not already disappointed; you can’t afford to lose another job. No job means no roof over your head, no food to be had. Here, you are safe and sound, for as long as they will have you.

“Good.” The woman nods in approval as she looks you up and down. “You will do nicely. Now, in - the Prince doesn’t much like to be kept waiting.”   
“The Prince-” You stutter, but before you have another moment to process, she opens the nearest door and pushes you none too gently inside. 

You had expected to be cleaning floors, polishing silverware, dusting the ballrooms. Not waiting on the Crown Prince. You’ve heard the stories, of course - everyone had. Of his flirtatious and flighty ways, of his lust for decadence and excess. But more than that, of his kindness, too, and intelligence. No one in the kingdom could doubt his ability to take over the throne, when the time would come. He has a good head on his shoulders.

Rather broad and muscular shoulders, you note as you step out of the shadows by the doorway into the room. He is beautiful, more than you could have imagined, even from the paintings you have seen. He lies on back on the pillows on his bed, bare chested, a light dusting of stubble across his jawline. There’s a thick fur draped over his shoulders, a glistening stone on the end of a chain glistening against his chest. His pants hang low against his hips - so low, you almost feel you should look away out of respect - encasing his long legs down to his bare feet. 

He lets out a sigh, his gaze shifting from the window onto you. “About time,” he comments, a small smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth. “I was getting terribly lonely in here.” He pats the space on the bed next to him and you hesitate. It seems a little inappropriate to be jumping into bed with the Prince on your first day. 

“Come,” he orders and you will your feet to move. You cannot disobey what the Prince wants, after all. You carefully slide up onto the bed, sitting upright as you offer him some of the fruit from the bowl, without a word. “What’s your name?” he asks, plucking a grape from the bowl and popping into his mouth.

You tell him, hurriedly adding a  _Your Highness_  onto the end, a small dot of pink appearing on both of your cheeks. He repeats your name, turning it over his tongue, the sound of it sending a shiver down your spine.   
“And please. Sebastian, will do just fine.”  
You doubt you will ever dare to call him that, but you nod all the same.

He takes another grape as he looks you over, and there’s something in his gaze that makes you feel naked beneath it. As though he can see right past your layers of clothing, drinking in every inch of your skin with greedy eyes. “Do you eat?” He asks suddenly, a playful smile on his lips. 

“On occasion,” you quip back dryly, trying to hide your own smile. 

It’s dangerous to play this game with your employers, you know that - it is what cost you your last job, being too friendly, too quick to speak. But Sebastian laughs, the sound of it alone worth the risk that you may have just taken. “On occasion,” he repeats, chuckling to himself, clearly amused. 

Sebastian takes another grape from the bowl, but rather than eating it himself, he presses it to your lips instead. You feel heat rise up the back of your neck as you allow him to push it past your lips and into your mouth, his finger following it in. His eyes are fixed on your mouth as you suck on the digit reflexively. The grape crushes in your mouth, the sweet juices running over your tongue, before Sebastian pulls his hand back.

“Good,” he murmurs, his eyes dancing wickedly as he moves the bowl aside. You want to ask what he means, _what’s_  good, but that you know that would be out of turn. His hand glides over the front of his pants and he lets out a contented hum. He cocks his head and smiles at you sweetly. “Take off your clothes.” It is said gently, but you know that it is nonetheless a command, not a request.

You promptly strip off your meager robes, setting them down neatly on the chair by the bed before returning to him. Sebastian’s hand glides down over your chest, over the slight curve of your stomach and down, cupping you with his warm hand. You gasp, your heartbeat thundering in your ears as his fingers toy with you for a moment. 

Sebastian grins widely, pulling his hand back to undo the front of his pants, pushing the material back and pulling out his hard cock. His other hand threads into your hair, guiding your head down towards his lap. “Would you?” he asks, another thinly veiled command. You have never gone so willingly, licking your lips as you reposition yourself more comfortably on your knees, pressing a soft kiss to the base of his cock. 

He doesn’t push you any further at this point, letting you set the pace. You slide your tongue up from the base to the tip, suckling the head into your mouth. Sebastian lets out a groan, a light murmur of your name before his hand is back, insistent against the nape of your neck, encouraging you to take more of him.

You relax your jaw and sink down over his length, shuddering at the musky, masculine scent of him that envelopes you as you take him deep into the back of your throat. You pause for a moment, recovering your ability to breathe through your nose before continuing. You can feel spit dribbling down your chin, but you couldn’t care less. Not when Sebastian is wonderfully thick and full in your mouth, throbbing lightly against your tongue as you begin to bob your head. 

You take the initiative to stroke a hand over his balls, cupping and rolling them in your hands slowly. He is becoming increasingly twitchy and vocal beneath your ministrations, his hips jerking off the bed every so often, the fur slipping from his shoulders and onto the bed beneath him as he moves. He makes such beautiful noises, breathy whimpers and lower, guttural moans.

You cast your gaze up to watch him, his head tipped back in pleasure, revealing the long line of his throat. Your torn between wanting to drag this out for as long as he will let you, savoring the taste and weight of him in your mouth, and how he’s threading his fingers through your hair. But equally, you want to make him reach his climax, to hear him cry out with it and swallow everything he will give to you. 

You decide on the latter for now; for if you do well, you are sure he will let you do this again. Will  _want_  you to. You start to take him faster, rewarded in turn with a loud sigh from Sebastian, his short nails digging into the back of your neck. He is close, and with a gentle tug on his balls, he comes with a cry, jerking into the back of your throat. 

You ease him through it slowly, drawing your head back only when you are sure he is done. You catch sight of yourself in the mirror nearby as you sit up: your lips are red and wet with spit and a little of his come. His. The Prince of Decadence. You understand the nickname more than ever. 

When you look back, you find he is watching you, his eyes dark, still panting slightly as he catches his breath. He licks his lips and draws you down into his side, arm wrapped around your protectively. “You will sleep here, with me, from now on, whenever I request it.” He pauses, looking down at you. “I hope you will be comfortable here at the palace.”

You smile, hiding the expression into his side. “I’m sure I will be. Very much so. Thank you, Your Highness.” He shoots you a dissatisfied look at the title, but doesn’t comment, rather pushing on top of you until you are pinned down against the bed. 

“Let me make one thing very clear,” he whispers, his hands finding your wrists and pinning them up by your head. “I will accept Your Highness, if you must call me that. But when I am pleasuring you, the only name I want to hear out of your mouth is?”  
_“Sebastian,”_  you sigh contentedly, as his hand moves once more between your legs.


End file.
